Christmas Past, Present, and Future
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Three poignant Christmases from Peeta's point of view.


I own nothing.

* * *

**Christmas Past**  
_...the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors._

I was going back in.

Come hell or high water, it would be me who went back into the arena with Katniss.

The Quarter Quell announcement had just been made as I entered my family's bakery. My parents were the only ones there, and before I could process the news, my father's arms were around me. Glancing over his shoulder, I eyed my mother. Arms crossed, sour expression on her face. It was a look she tended to reserve only for me.

"Maybe it won't be you," my father murmured.

"Yeah, maybe," I mumbled, knowing it wasn't the truth. Either I was reaped or I volunteered to take Haymitch's place. Our old mentor could never survive a second trip to the Hunger Games. Even with one leg, I had a better of chance of living long enough to make sure Katniss was crowned victor.

"Peeta, may I speak with you?" my mother asked, her voice cold and formal. Pulling away from my father, I nodded and followed her upstairs. Above the small shop was the tiny apartment where I had grown up. Five people miraculously fit, but the conditions were tight. My two older brothers and I slept in the same room until my oldest brother, Cook, got married. Now, it's Rye's room. I had begged my family to move into my house in the Victor's Village with me, but my mother refused. "Well," she said, taking a seat at the dining room table.

"Well," I repeated, though I didn't sit.

She cleared her throat. "I guess I was wrong about you," she stated without a hint of remorse. "And, maybe in a way, I wasn't."

"I don't follow," I replied, brows furrowing in confusion.

Looking me up and down, she sighed. "That girl saved your life and brought you home," she explained. "I told you she was a survivor, that she would win. But you made it back as well. I didn't expect that to happen."

I could feel my anger rising. There was a time I had feared my mother. The majority of my memories of her were abusive, whether physically or mentally. She called us stupid, told us we would amount to nothing. It didn't take much to set her off, and I had the scars to prove it.

"You sound disappointed," I said flatly.

But she shook her head, the hard look in her eyes softening. "Relieved, Peeta," she replied. "I'm relieved."

I snorted. "You have a really funny way of showing it," I retorted. "You've spoken to me twice since I came back. I asked you to move in with me, and you said no. I've offered you a part of my winnings, and you turned it down. Every time I come by, you disappear. That doesn't seem like relief to me, Mom."

She shook her head, suddenly looking exhausted. "What do you want me to say?" she asked.

"Nothing," I muttered before turning to leave.

I had just made it to the stairs that would lead back down to the bakery when she called out, "Don't go back."

"Back where?" I asked, breathing an irritated sigh. I turned back to face her and saw tears in her eyes.

"The arena," she clarified. "Don't go back. You risked your life once. You were injured. You lost your leg. It was hard enough watching you go through that once. I don't think I could handle seeing you suffer a second time."

I wanted to be happy. She was pleading with me to stay. She didn't want to lose me. But hadn't she already? The first time she hit me I was five years old. A tray of freshly baked cookies was perched on the edge of the bakery counter. Cook had been chasing me and I knocked into it. The batch was ruined. Mom dragged me by the ear into the back and smacked me until she was sure I wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a few days. After that, I began to pull away. I feared her and her punishments. Being reaped was a blessing in disguise. Either I would die and never have to put up with her wrath again, or I'd win and be able to move out.

"I spent the last decade suffering at your hand," I finally told her. "A few days in the arena will be paradise compared to you. I have every intention of volunteering if it's Haymitch who gets reaped. And I'm going in to protect Katniss. Because you protect the people you love. Not that you would know anything about that."

"And if she doesn't love you back?" she wondered. "You would throw your life away for a Seam girl who doesn't share your feelings?"

I turned to leave one more. "It doesn't matter to me," I stated. "She could tell me tomorrow that she never wants to speak to me again. I'm going with her, and I'm going to make sure she comes home. Her family needs her."

"Peeta-"

Shaking my head, I walked out the door. "Merry Christmas, Mom" I muttered.

**Christmas Present**  
"That was the last conversation we ever had," I said sadly.

It was our first Christmas together. The war was over. The government had been overthrown. And our families were gone. All I had left was Katniss Everdeen. My Hunger Games partner, my co-victor, the girl I'd loved since I was five years old, the girl I tried to kill only months earlier. She blamed it on the hijacking, the high level doses of tracker jacker venom that had been pumped into my veins when I was captured by the Capitol after all hell broke loose during the Quarter Quell. She had forgiven me for every horrible thing I'd said and done to her. I called her terrible names, blamed her for the death of my family, attempted to strangle her. And she had forgiven every single thing. I had yet to figure out why.

Katniss pinned the last strand of garland to the fireplace mantel. "It sounds like she was scared," she said thoughtfully as she took a seat beside me.

"She never wanted me," I replied gruffly. "I don't know why she would be afraid of losing me."

"Maybe after sixteen years she got attached," she suggested.

"Not likely," I muttered.

Katniss placed her hand over mine, and I could see the way her burn scars seemed to match my own. "It's Christmas, Peeta," she said softly.

"So what, I should forgive myself?" I asked. "Have you forgiven yourself?"

She shook her head, and just as quickly as her walls had come down, they went right back up. "We should decorate the tree," she decided, getting to her feet.

I followed her to the tree that we'd put up by the front window. Katniss had insisted that we cut one down in the woods. It was my first Christmas tree. My mother wasn't one for holidays aside from the business it would bring the bakery. There were no trees, no turkey dinners, no presents. Christmas was just another day in the Mellark house. "I'm sorry," I told her as she began to sort through dozens of handmade ornaments. "I shouldn't have asked that."

"Do you want to know why I asked you to help me put up a tree and decorate and do this whole Christmas thing?" she asked. She didn't wait for a reply, verbal or otherwise. "Prim. She loved holidays. After my father died and my mother checked out, it was Prim who kept things going. I thought doing all of this would make it feel like she was here again."

I held her close as the first signs of tears appeared in her gray eyes. "Does it?" I wondered.

"A bit," she conceded. "I keep expecting her to come walking through the door with snow in her hair and a big smile on her face though."

"We never had Christmas, but my dad would always sneak us a few treats." I remembered the way he would smile so mischievously at my brothers and me as he slipped us peppermint cookies when my mother wasn't watching. Rye asked about Christmas one year when I was seven. The next day, when my brothers and I woke up, Pop had left us a little gift. We didn't tell Mom because we were afraid she'd take it away."

"Did she ever find out?" Katniss asked.

I shrugged, realizing I never knew if she had discovered our secret. If she had, she never said anything about it. "Maybe she just wanted to let us be happy one day a year," I guessed.

Katniss sighed. "Do you think we'll ever be happy again?" she asked. "Does this ever get normal again?"

"I really hope so."

"Maybe celebrating Christmas will help," she decided. "My dad always said it was a time for miracles."

I reached for her hand, taking the crocheted snowflake ornament from it and setting it aside. "I never believed in miracles," I admitted. "Growing up here and living with my mother, it makes it hard to think they're real. Then the Hunger Games happened, and it was definitely a miracle that I survived...twice. Everything we've been through - the Games, the hijacking, the rebellion - I think it's a miracle that we survived it all."

Despite the tears in her eyes, Katniss smiled. "We save each other, Peeta," she replied. "That's what we do. I never would have made it through any of this without you. You've stuck by me when everyone else left. You always ask me why I forgave you for what you did. That's why."

I turned to face her and leaned forward. Our lips brushed ever so briefly, and I feared that this was not something she wanted. But it had been too long since she allowed me to kiss her. It was all I thought about when I was captured by the Capitol. I wanted one more kiss, one more chance to hold her, one more chance to make her realize how much I love her. Maybe she would learn to love me too.

I was the first to pull away, not wanting to scare her or make her feel uncomfortable. Her fingers held tightly to the hair at the nape of my neck, holding me so close to her that our foreheads touched. "I've missed that," she whispered.

"I have too."

Her smile seemed to grow. It was a smile I was sure I had never seen before. It reached her eyes, crinkling the corners. Seeing her look so happy made me want to kiss her again. But her hold on me loosened and she pulled back.

"Can I tell you what I want for Christmas?" she asked. I nodded, praying I would be able to give it to her. "You. I want you to stay."

"I'm not going anywhere," I vowed.

She shook her head. "No, I mean here," she clarified. "Stay here. I only sleep well when you're here. I want you to live here with me."

"May I ask you something?" She nodded. "You love me. Real or not real?"

"Real," she murmured, pressing her lips to mine.

My grin grew so wide, it hurt my cheeks. "After we finish trimming the tree, we can start moving my stuff in."

"Merry Christmas, Peeta."

**Christmas Future**  
"Is he sober?" Katniss asked as we watched Haymitch Abernathy come up our front walk.

I shrugged. "Looks it," I replied.

"_Looks it_ isn't good enough," she stated. "I've told him time and time again that if he wants to be in our daughter's life that he needs to stop drinking."

I took our daughter from her arms. "He's trying, Katniss."

She moved to the front door and opened it before Haymitch had a chance to knock. "Are you drunk?" she asked him point blank.

I joined them at the door to greet our former mentor. "No," he replied. "Haven't had a drink since the little one was born. Just starting to get over the withdrawal symptoms. No more shaking."

It was good enough for me. I handed Lily to him as he entered and smiled as he held her so protectively. Our two month old daughter cooed and flashed a toothless grin at the old man. "She likes you," I commented.

"Yeah, I guess I like her too," he replied. "Pretty like her mama, isn't she? Less likely to stab me in my sleep though. Automatically makes me like her better."

"I've never tried to stab you in your sleep," Katniss pointed out. "You're the one who sleeps with a hunting knife in hand."

"Says the woman who sleeps with a bow and a loaded quiver of arrows next to her bed," Haymitch retorted.

This could go on for hours. "Hey, Lily looks hungry," I interjected. "Haymitch, feel like feeding her? I can warm up a bottle."

Katniss shook her head. "I'll do it," she muttered before leaving the room.

When we were alone, Haymitch eased himself into the nearest chair and adjusted Lily in his arms. "She still upset about her ma?" he asked.

I nodded and took a seat across from him. "I think she feels bad," I replied. Her mother died had passed away only weeks before Lily's birth. "They hadn't seen each other in ten years, and they hardly spoke. Katniss didn't even know she was sick until we got the telegram. And she was too close to giving birth to go to the funeral."

"And how are you doing?" he inquired.

There had been a slip up just days after Lily had been born. It resulted in a kitchen full of broken glass and plates. "Better," I said. "I no longer think my daughter is mutt spawn intent on killing me. Who knows if I'll say the same thing when she starts dating."

Haymitch chuckled and accepted the bottle Katniss offered. "Strange to see you with a bottle in hand that isn't full of white liquor," she commented as she took a seat beside me.

"Glad to see your charm hasn't disappeared," he remarked as he fed our daughter.

"So, this is what I want for Christmas this year," I stated, standing up. "One day, just one day, of the two of you not fighting or insulting each other or nitpicking everything. A little peace and quiet would really make my holiday a bit more special."

Haymitch sighed tiredly. "The boy's right," he agreed. "Just let me enjoy my granddaughter for a little while without picking an argument, sweetheart."

The sofa shifted beside me as Katniss rose and walked out of the living room. "Be right back," I told him before following her upstairs to our bedroom. She sat on the bed and covered her face with her hands. "Talk to me?"

She looked up, her gray eyes glistening and her mouth hanging open as if trying to formulate the words. "He called her his granddaughter," she finally managed to say.

"Does that bother you?" I wondered, sitting down beside her.

Shaking her head, she smiled. "No," she replied. "It really doesn't. He was here when she was born. He stopped drinking so he could hold her. He wants to be here for her, to be a part of things."

"I think that's a good thing," I said softly as I wrapped my arms around her.

She nodded her head in agreement. "It just...it makes me wish our families were still here," she confessed. "Couldn't you just imagine Prim with Lily? She would have loved her. And I can picture your dad slipping her cookies before dinner. Or my father teaching her to sing. There's just so much, so many people she'll never know. It breaks my heart, Peeta."

My hold on her tightened and I pressed a kiss to her temple. "She still has parents who love her unconditionally," I replied. "And I intend to slip her cookies when you're not watching. She'll have the biggest sweet tooth in Panem. And you can teach her to sing like your father taught you, or teach her to shoot a bow and arrow. And now she's got Haymitch. Look at how she's already changed him for the better. I think the four of us make a pretty good family."

Katniss smiled. "Yeah, we really do."

"Good, then let's go back downstairs before Grandpa Haymitch starts teaching our baby how to do shots," I joked. Her grin slipped as we stood up. "I'm only kidding. Come on. We have a tree to decorate."

We returned to the living room and watched silently as Haymitch cradled a sleeping Lily in his arms. There were tears in his eyes when he finally looked up at us. "Last time I held a baby it was my younger brother," he shared. "He wasn't even reaping age when he was killed. Two years from it, in fact. After that, well, no one would have trusted me with their baby. Thank you for this."

Katniss stepped forward and knelt down beside his chair. "You're welcome," she replied, resting a hand on his knee. "How about you let Peeta put her down for a nap, and then we'll start decorating."

He kissed Lily's forehead before handing her to me. "Thanks, sweetheart, for inviting me," he murmured.

"We invite you every year," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I know," he said. "And I never came."

"How come?" I asked. "Why'd you accept our invite this year?"

Haymitch sighed tiredly. "Figured it was about time we started a new tradition," he replied. "For Lily."

The End


End file.
